A Nobody After All
by enakoritsi
Summary: Hearts, Demyx figured, seemed to be much more trouble than they were actually worth. All they appeared to do was cause rifts between those who had them, and those who wanted them because they hadn't been so lucky...


_Author's Note_: This piece of writing isn't really as good as my other one, but for some reason I wanted to get it out anyway. It's not much I'll admit, I think it seems a little repetitive at some points, and I'm not exactly sure if it flows all that well. After rereading it, I'm not even sure it makes much sense. I really hope I kept Demyx in character some what, as I'm not really very familiar with him. I have a feeling that I made him too much of what I wanted him to be and infused him with my own ideals and theories a bit too much. But I do like it, especially the last part, and I hope you do to. Saying that, please review it if you have the chance.

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of its characters.

* * *

.:. _A Nobody After All_ .:.

Demyx plucked at the strings of his sitar in fluid motions, his long fingers creating a mesmerizing melody. The notes floated through the air, whispering sweetly in his ear before fading away into the quiet atmosphere. But it was never quiet for long, for there were always new notes to be played, new chords to compose.

Demyx leaned his against the wall of his room where he was sitting and closed his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the sweet melodies of his own composition. He always played, and usually wrote, a song after a defeat. Since they were so commonplace, it was a fantastic excuse for him to be able to hold his beloved sitar firmly in his hands, which was what he lived for. This was all he really needed, everything that he required in his existence, which the others viewed as pale and pitiful compared to their own wants and desires. Demyx had always been a little different, a little odd, but he was simply content with himself and his music.

As he felt the vibration of the thin strings through the thick layer of leather from his gloves, Demyx reopened his sea-green eyes and looked around his room wistfully. His eyes moved smoothly and took in every aspect of the room before setting his mouth into a delicate frown.

White walls. White floor. White door. White _everything_.

Everything was colorless and bland, like food without taste. He looked down at his sitar fondly and marveled at his own fingers dancing so intricately along its design.

"It's like a sitar with no strings."

There wasn't an ounce of color in his room at all, or the entire castle for that matter. Even the comforter on his bed and the curtains in his window were a fresh, pristine white that somehow never sullied or grow dirty in any way. In fact, Demyx would've liked to have tossed some dirt around the room and watch it stain everything a disgusting, messy brown. Just so that there would be some sort of color to stop the endless parade of white. Sometimes he even formed his water clones in his room and let them run wild, drenching everything in his cage-like quarters with their bluish tint.

The problem was though, that water _always_ dried clear.

The frosty color almost seemed mocking as it filled his eyes and his senses, and he could almost hear it speak.

Everything's white because that's what you are; nothing. You're dull and fake, empty and colorless, just like me. Everyone around you looks at you the way you look at me, with distain because you're boring and no one wants you in their lives.

Demyx's hands shook a little and the note soured, scouring the air harshly and hurting his ears. He lowered his instrument to the floor and watched as it disintegrated into a mass of light blue, almost crystal clear bubbles and droplets of water. Staring at the spot on the floor where it had been, Demyx was almost sorry to see his sitar go, but he knew he wasn't going to play again.

His muse was gone.

The silence treaded heavily on his ears, and he almost wanted to cover them to block out the soundless waves. His hands made it halfway up to his head before he realized how ridiculous he was being and lowered them again. Wide, almost innocent eyes bored into the floor with a quiet intensity as thoughts bounced around Demyx's head and tiny snippets of times passed flooded his senses.

_"Did you hear? Number II finally recruited a new member."_

_"He any good?"_

He didn't move from his spot and instead stayed sitting, his hands clasped on his lap neatly as his eyes stared without seeing and the empty canvas that surrounded him. Peeking down at the black toes of his boots, he realized how much he stuck out from the rest of his pale surroundings. It was something Demyx noticed often, how much he didn't belong no matter where he was.

_"Actually, he doesn't seem like much, a big disappointment. I would've left him out there."_

The words that had fallen from lips of the past drifted through Demyx's memory, and he pursed his own. There were times almost everyday where Demyx would wish that he had never been discovered by that imposing cloaked figure who had offered him a hand. He loved to imagine the life of nothingness he might have had, playing simple tunes by the ocean where it was okay not to feel anything at all.

He hadn't really wanted to join the Organization to begin with. If Xigbar hadn't seemed so threatening with his supposed _invitation_, he would eagerly have turned him down and continued living his life ignorant. It would have been bliss to go on pretending that he was whole, and everything was the way it was supposed to be. Demyx figured that in the depths of their souls that every member wished that they could just pretend all the horror away too; even if they wouldn't admit it.

But even though he couldn't pretend, Demyx didn't view the life of a Nobody the way he should've.

As strange as it seemed to the others, Demyx virtually had no qualms with his situation. Sure, he thought having a heart would probably be great as the others claimed, but he didn't really think he needed it. Being a Nobody was all he had ever known, so how could he imagine something more?

The other members thought Demyx was stupid, worthless. He figured some of them even wished that he would just die on a mission already and stop blundering up their lives. Sometimes he wished it himself. It would have been a sad thought, but luckily Demyx couldn't feel sad so it was okay. He grinned slightly, a little pleased with himself, and pulled his knees up to his chest while clasping his arms around them protectively. See, he could come up with an intelligent and meaningful thought just like the rest of them.

_"He can't even fight. All that pathetic lout does is run away."_

_"What was Xigbar thinking, bringing that worthless whelp here?"_

Demyx wasn't stupid just because he didn't like to fight. He actually found that those over enthused warriors, such as Number III, were the ones with feeble minds. All they could concentrate on was their supposed strength, and they had nothing else to offer but their decent skills in battle. Brute force and physical strength could only get one so far, and soon enough it would fade away with the passage of time.

Of course, power was what the Organization respected and valued most, so Demyx and his philosophies were often shoved to the side. Not that he wasn't a decent fighter, for Demyx could defiantly hold his own if he released his full potential, something he knew and was sure the other members were aware of. But the fact was that Demyx was too scared to release his own skills, too eager to run away and end the whole thing before he got in too deep.

_"Come on Demyx, put some effort into it. You want a heart, don't you?"_

Hearts, Demyx figured, seemed to be much more trouble than they were actually worth. All they appeared to do was cause rifts between those who had them, and those who wanted them because they hadn't been so lucky. He had already run into the keyblade master, Sora, and the conclusion of their short-lived battle only fueled his viewpoint. _Too much trouble._

Demyx stood up with a weary sigh and walked over to his bed of snow, sinking down into the plain sheets and letting his feet rest just above the floor. He lifted his ocean-filled eyes up to the ceiling in a thoughtful stare, one hand lifting to run through his hair.

The problem, when you got right down to it, was that Sora couldn't understand. He saw the Organization as his enemies and was determined to cut them down one by one until he had sent them all to the grave. The young keyblade master didn't understand the emptiness of their lives, the hopelessness each of them had endured, and so in his ignorance he hoped to destroy them all. Part of Demyx wanted to blame him for his cruelty, for the way he had slayed those not as blessed as himself without remorse. Every other member sure did. To be honest with himself however, Demyx knew that wasn't exactly Sora's fault.

The Organization had gone about the entire process of manipulating the youth in the most foolish, dreadful way they could've. Superior and the others viewed Sora as a pawn, just a tool in their plans for their own desires and wants. Demyx knew he was just as guilty as the rest of them.

From the start they had patronized him, baited him, and taunted him into destroying Heartless and Nobodies alike to create this supposedly grand Kingdom Hearts. Why couldn't the others see that fighting wasn't always the way to get what they wanted? Another path was always there, hidden deeply in the shadows, and it was a road Demyx would have preferred to travel. As childish as it sounded, he often wondered why they couldn't just talk it out.

Unlike his comrades, and as he had previously pondered over, Demyx disliked fighting and was quite averse to battling in general. To be frank, he was too timid and grew too frightened to be of any use on the battle field, and the jeering he received from those above and even below him did nothing to improve his rather low self esteem. If there was any way out of a fight, Demyx would take it eagerly and willingly, and that is perhaps why he was the only one who realized all the clashing and death was completely unnecessary.

"I heard Number IX returned from his mission."

Demyx's ears perked instinctively as a low voice floated through his closed door from the hall outside. He lowered his eyes guilty and bit his lip as his last defeat came rushing back to him. Little bits and pieces of the encounter flashed through his mind. He saw the light reflected off Sora's keyblade as he lunged, and he felt the water that had splashed him as one of his clones were torn in half.

"Yeah, he's back, and he lost as usual. I don't even see why Superior sends him out, he's completely useless."

The statement rushed forward, ready to smack Demyx across the face, but it never reached him. An invisible, emotionless shield protected him from any harsh words or disapproving comments. He was a Nobody, he could never be angry, or sad, or disappointed in himself. If he could, all those feelings would have consumed him and swallowed him whole; his own uselessness, and the way he didn't belong in a group of the elite. Demyx really was a nobody after all.

And maybe that's why he was completely at peace with being one.


End file.
